#i’m just a weirdo because my goal isn’t to sound ‘like a guy’ when singing - but to sound Like Me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scott-mccall-the-hot-girl · 3 years

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my ultimate guide to thiam fic !!

( as a new teen wolf stan )

the classic post war, long ass (multi chapter) fic !!with great development that genuinely made me laugh out loud, they have the best friendship in this & i love it very much. ( like theo teaches liam to drive and i just *happy sobs* ) a fundamental in thiam fanfiction !! all stans have probably already read it but if you haven’t this is in fact a threat ,, go show this vv iconic story some love !!

Airplanes - Captainmintyfresh

Summary: After the Anuk-ite and the hunters are dealt with Liam needs a break. Cue Theo and a road trip that Liam should know better than to think will be peaceful.

Not Rated, No Archive Warnings Apply, Completed, 43/43 Chapters, Words: 236,875 (236k)

okay okay so this one is also post 6B !! but ,, now we introduce fighting monroe & the hunters again ,, so we get the boys & a new mission !! so if you like an intresting plot 11/10 would recommend !! just to be clear this ISN’T complete ,, if that turns you off i understand but definitely give this one a read !! it litterally have theo doing crossword puzzles & fighting zombies

Vacancy Signs - LovelyLittleGrim

Summary: Theo and Liam are in Manhattan negotiating a pack allyship when the zombie apocalypse breaks out. Now, the two of them have to find their way back to Beacon Hills without getting eaten by zombies or killing one another.

Rated: Explicit, Graphic Description of Violence, Not Completed, 15/17 Chapters, Words: 89,605 (89k)

Royalty AU !! I REPEAT ROYALTY AU !! a fantastic au where i stan their moms more than i stan them !! genuinely so good at the childhood rivals to lovers trope !! i’m genuinely obsessed with this one. has made me cry more than once ,, hurts in a good way <3 the ending is just *chefs kiss* also one of the tags is genuinely: # theo and liam make bad choices for over 130k straight !! if that doesn’t sound appealing i don’t know what does !!

Artificial Love - songbvrd

Summary: Prince Theo and Prince Liam are forced to spend every Summer together from age five onwards. They hate each other, and usually find ways to make each other miserable as much as possible in their six weeks together. But when they're reunited because of intended unions as adults, things change. They're both supposed to be married to noble women, but neither of them is as interested in anyone else as they are with their childhood rival.

Rated: Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, Completed, Chapters: 32/32, Words: 172,935 (172k)

so if you are in the mood for a crack fic that’s not explicitally a crack fic this is for you !! okay so i’m really hit or miss with AU’s ,, sometimes i feel like they don’t quite capture the characters right but this story have the BEST dramatic liam i have ever seen in my life !! basically they all live in the same apartment building & it’s fantastic !! i saw this one floating around a lot but the summary didn’t really unrest me until i have it a shot !! so go read it rn !! also nolan & brett are genuinely fantastic and make me wheeze ,, LIKE ACTUALLY VERBALLY LAUGHING !! all i’m gonna say is that my fav characters are scott & the beetles but that won’t make actual sense until you read it !!

The Neighbors Song - TheodoreR

Summary: “I always hear you singing on your balcony every morning, but suddenly you’ve stopped?”

Or the one where Theo annoys Liam every morning with his awful singing until he doesn’t anymore and Liam is even more annoyed. Liam hates every single thing about his mornings -the fact that they happen in the morning alone is enough. The thing Liam hates the most about his mornings though is the terrible voice of the guy who lives below him. He can’t sing for shit and Liam tried to politely let him understand that by throwing flour and water on his balcony, and also by shouting it to him, you can’t sing for shit!, and then by writing it into a note he proceeded to attach to his door, but this Raeken guy just keeps doing it, every single morning, like a fucking rooster. Liam did nothing to deserve this. He probably didn’t do anything to deserve better either to be fair, he doesn’t expect to open his window and be welcomed by some angelic voice singing him good morning, he’d just be happy with nothing. Silence. That’s something Liam can appreciate in mornings. Just some bark from his dog and the sound of his misery and that’s it. But no, god forbid the new guy lets him have that.

Rated: Explicit, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Wanrings, Completed, 8/8 Chapters, Words: 42,814 (42k)

me: i’m not a big fan of AU’s ,, proceeds to talk about ANOTHER au… OKAY BUT THIS ONE !! it’s not complete but the author has been updating regularly ,, vv slow burn !! but in a REALLY intresting way !! i lOVE LIAM IN THIS SO MUCH ,, he is such a diaster of a person and it’s wonderful !! they have a great dynamic & i’m sucker for general puppy pack content ( and erica reyes being a badass ) !! also theo plays lacrosse in this & i really like it ahhhhh ,, also liam is just being an artic monkeys stan the whole time & theo is like *que confused repressed gay noises*

Inglorious Roommates - honeyscape

Summary: A roommate is defined as “a person with whom one shares a room.”

Theo would say a roommate was more along the lines of, “The person who's the bane of his existence. The weirdo that sleeps for days. The spaz that exercises at 3am. The guy with a revolving door of annoying friends. An insufferable human being that Theo has no control over living in his room.”

Example: Theo hates his roommate Liam.

okay okay i hate myself but i have another WIP for y’all !! this one is jUST FANTASTIC. i’m genuinely so upset it’s most likely not going to updated again *incoherent screaming ensues*. for this story ,, it’s very theo-centric bUT thats bc it ends right before liam becomes a concrete member of the story !! ANYWAY: basic plot = theo & acquiring not one but two children ,, so #dad theo but he is still crusty & homeless and i love him very much. it’s just so GOOD !! just read if you want to experience my fav theo coming out story & him etching high school musical

Look who's talking - Captainmintyfresh

Summary: Theo had been labeled many things in his life. Evil, failure, monster. He'd never thought Father would be one of those things but as he looked across the table to a six year old with blue smears of bubble gum icecream across her face trying to coax the first words out of her sister. Finger jabbing towards Theo's face as she repeated 'Daddy' again and again he couldn't bring himself to dispute the label.

(Theo accidentally adopts two young werewolves)

Not Rated, Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings, Not Completed, Chapters: 16/?, Words: 48740 ( 48k )

so here me out: post-canon ( poetry like angst ) summer get away !! just the boys doing cute little domestic things together whilst pining !! theo’s guilt in this is just so powerful & aGjffkgkkfkvkdlv !! i think it’s so interesting to see how they interact in this one, it’s just very heart warming !! and it features one of my favorite niche teen wolf tropes of theo being great with like seven year old girls- it’s just so good ,, very much a wonderful little one shot that just makes your heart happy.

(next time i see you you'll show me) a hundred different ways to say the same things - cherrysprite

Summary: “...You deserve good things,” Liam says eventually. He makes sure not to look at Theo even though he can feel his eyes turn on him. Somehow he can already tell that Theo doesn’t believe him.

Liam instantly makes that the goal of this summer - making Theo believe him.

Rating: Teen and Up, No Archive Warnings Apply, Chapters: 1/1, Words: 28875 ( 28k )

okay so this next section of fic recs is a bit different !!

two of my favorite authors !! and a compilation of fics i’ve read by them both !!

for context: these two have written some genuinely gorgeous fics, like pure poetry, they explore the real gritty & scary side of our boys relationship in such a wonderful way. they’ve both used some of my favorite tropes & i love them very much !!

whenever i need something soothing but so genuinely intresting & enticing these are my go to !! ( also they both write a lot of good nolan angst & some vv good fics with hayden )

go check out:

eneiryu

as well as fallingforboys

here are some of my favorite fics by them ~

darling i want you here in my arms (kiss the pain away, i know you can) - fallingforboys

even before you touched me, i belonged to you (all you had to do was look at me) - fallingforboys

memories linger like tattoo scars (but your touch on my skin is just as permanent) - fallingforboys

skin, bones, a stolen heart, and an ugly creature lurking underneath -fallingforboys

i don't know how to breathe in the place i called home - fallingforboys

whisper your gossamer truths into the shadow, maybe you'll find the answers you're searching for - fallingforboys

between the mountains and the valley we built a monument to our regret - eneiryu

cracked the hinges of the cage and waited for you - eneiryu

okay and finally: since i am a self centered whore

my own fic: an rendition of the # elevator scene

it’s basically my version of post canon if we did get the kiss in the elevator. we got a classic liam pov in which he is has 12/10 for extreme bi diaster energy even whilst being shot at !! so go him ig…

Fuck Off, Fuck This & Fuck It! - nefelibata_peach

Summary: Liam thought to himself heart rate climbing, they were bound to be dead by morning. So he thought with everything but his brain and he kissed him.

Where Liam Dunbar is very confused, slightly traumatized, and just a bit scared but hey, aren't they all! Bad decisions ensue as two boys fight in a war they never did sign up for.

Rating: Teen and Up, Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Chapters: 1/1, Words: 3558 ( 3k )

#this took me so long #please go read these or i’ll cry #fan fiction #fan fic recs #teen wolf fic recs #thiam fanfiction #thiam fic recs #thiam #theo raeken #liam dunbar #theo x liam #teen wolf fandom #teen wolf gay #teen wolf #ao3 #fuck you fuck this & fuck it #thiam fanfic rec #thiam fanfic #thiam is endgame

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johannstutt413 · 3 years

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(requested by anonymous)

Asbestos parked her door-shield in front of the Doctor’s office door after closing it behind her. “Hey, you done yet? We’ve got some drinking to do.”

“This is four days in a row,” he sighed from his desk. “I’m starting to get used to having a hangover in the morning. Why are you so insistent about this?”

“You’re the one who begged to come on an expedition with me. If you wanna roll into a cave with me, you’re gonna have to pull your weight. I’m not sandbagging for your slow ass. Come on, damnit, daylight’s burning!”

He groaned, resolutely stationary. “But what the hell does getting drunk have to do with spelunking? And you’re the one who asked me to go with you by giving me a suit in the first place!”

“Because I had a spare, and it had to go somewhere, didn’t it? Sheesh.” The Savra crossed her arms and started tapping her foot. “Come on, time’s a-wasting. You know I won’t leave until you come along.”

“...Goddamnit. Fine, let’s go.” The Doctor stood up, threw his jacket on, and followed her through the double door...which she left in place. Of course she would.

She put her arm through his and tugged him all the way to her bar of choice - in other words, the one with the least amount of people. In fact, the only other person there was the bartender, a Forte with as many scars has he had fingers and said about as many words in a night, so in other words, it was just the two of them. “Give us both a whiskey lullaby, and keep it coming until this boy here becomes a man.”

“I’ve been one for a few years now, thank you very much.” He took the glass as it was put in front of him, took it straight to the back of his throat, and, admittedly, relished the burn for a moment. “You’re gonna be the death of me, one way or another.”

“Might as well be; otherwise, you’d never leave your office.” Asbestos took her one drink for the night slowly, monitoring the Doctor as he downed his second.

Then his third. He was getting much better at this. “Do you do this to everyone who tries to talk to you? Not that that’s many people, I imagine.”

“Magallan and Click didn’t need a test, and we only talk about our expeditions, so I didn’t bother. You, though? You need all the toughening up I can give you.”

“The hell does that mean?” His eyes narrowed; he’d let his hood fall down during the walk-drag there, and it gave his expressions an extra note of sincerity, like a fighter throwing aside their training gear. “Do you know the shit I’ve seen?”

She snorted. “No, and you don’t either, so don’t try that shit with me.” And there went number four.

“I wouldn’t if you didn’t pull out all the stops to annoy me...What’s your real game, anyway? There’s being tsundere, and there’s being a sadist, but you don’t really seem like either to me.”

“Tsundere? Wow, alright, nerd.” Asbestos, breaking tradition, finished the rest of her first glass and signaled for a second. “Who needs a game? I just want to be a jerk - is that so hard to understand?”

He slammed his free hand on the table. “Damn right, it is. Why d’ya wanna go around like that? The hell makes a person make that their whole goal in life?”

“Does it matter? I don’t want the baggage that comes with all that shit. All a friend would do is hold me back, anyway, and I’ve got too many crazy-ass caves to climb around in to make time for that. Especially a scrawny mite like you.”

“Maybe I am scrawny.” The Doctor, seeing double after his sixth glass, drifted his focus to her tail. “But that makes me pretty fast.”

The Savra followed his gaze and shifted so he couldn’t stare. “The hell are you staring at?”

“Heheheh...Nothing.”

“You’re a terrible liar. Hey, dumbass.” She snapped her fingers in his face. “My eyes are up here.”

It was too late; he was already pretty far gone by this point. “I’ve made my choice...Swish!”

“Swish?! What th- kyaaa~!” Without giving her any time to react, the Doctor had bolted out of his chair and was now standing behind her, grasping her tail with one hand and stroking it with the other.

“So smooth~” It was nice and warm, too. “Hehe- ow.”

The ‘ow’ was because Asbestos had kicked him off of her and was standing over him, hands on her waist. “Who the hell said you could touch my tail, because it sure as fuck wasn’t me!”

“But it’s all smooth and warm...You really gonna hog that all to yourself?”

“It’s my tail, asshole, that’s my right!” She groaned. “Forget it. You always get like this after five or so. It’s my fault as much as yours.”

The Doctor sat up, rubbing his head. “But you keep letting me get away with it~ Just admit it: you like when I do it.”

“...I’m taking you home. Come on, let’s go.” The Savra pulled him to his feet and started dragging him behind her again.

“♫’Bestos-chan is best girl♪” He sang to himself as he stumble-slid along behind her. “♫’Bestos-chan is best girl♪”

Asbestos was blushing, in spite of herself; her tail was lit up as a result, too. “Sh-shut up. Seriously, your voice is more grating than a piton on a rock face.”

“But you aaaaare best girl. Heh. You make, ♫dum-dum Hurt so good! C’mon, baby, make it hurt so good!♪”

“...Goddamnit.” He was always so cute after she knocked some sense into him, but...No. Giving in would just make him think he had a chance of getting through to her, and she couldn’t risk that. She had way too much to do and not enough heart to spare for him...At least, not that she wanted to admit to having.

They made it to the Doctor’s place without any more major altercations - no, just him singing his love to her off-key and her telling him to shut the fuck up. The usual post-bar routine. Tonight, though, things took a bit of a turn as the Savra opened the door for him, but he refused to let go of her. She dragged him into his apartment, but still, he hung on with a strength he’d never shown before...What was his damage? “Hey, we’re here. Get off. Train stops here.”

“Why should I?” Once she was stationary, the Doctor wrapped around her leg instead. “Then you might leave~”

“Yeah, that’s the idea, weirdo. Seriously, you turn into a perv when you’re drunk.”

He chuckled, chasing it with a hiccup. “Maaaybe.”

“You’re insufferable.” And yet… “Alright, look, if you let go of my leg, I’ll consider staying for a nightcap, but you can’t cling on me like fucking moss if I do, got it?”

“Alrighty-ighty-oh.” That convinced him; the Doctor let go of her leg.

She sighed, helping him to his feet. “There. I said I’d stay, so I will, but don’t get any funny ideas.”

“Sure.” Immediately, he kissed her, full on the lips, as he hugged her as tightly as he could manage. When Asbestos kneed his crotch, he pulled back, but he didn’t look like he was in any pain. “See? Not funny in the slightest.”

“...I’m never taking you drinking again. Forget the expedition, this shit isn’t worth dealing with-”

The Doctor, who seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness up to this point, cut the act and stood up to his full height - a good half a foot taller than her. “You know you won’t.”

“The hell?” Asbestos stared at him for a moment. “That...was all an act just now, wasn’t it?”

“If there’s anything you taught me to do, it’s put on a front. You know I’m not a touchy-feely guy.”

The Savra shook her head. “Maybe not when you’re sober, but- Oh fuck, wait a minute.”

“Yeah.” He smirked. “Like you said, you don’t know the shit I’ve seen; I’m not even talking about the part even I don’t remember. This was never about toughening me up, Asbestos; we both know that.”

“You leave one chink in your armor, and the whole suit is worthless.” She sighed, wishing she’d brought her shield with her.

The Doctor nodded. “Especially when you wave it in front of the guy with a knife aimed at it, begging him to stab at it. The thing is, I know this isn’t about needing a friend, because you don’t really need those, so what is this about? Why tempt me like this, only to push me away every time?”

“Well, it’s not playing hard to get, I promise you that.” The Defender looked around for a place to sit before deciding on the bed, since it was her only option in her immediate vicinity. “Look, I don’t...I don’t want to leave anyone behind when I go, alright? This Oripathy shit is gonna kill me one way or the other, and when it does, I don’t want someone missing me when I’m gone.”

“...That’s it?” He’d sat down next to her, partially because his knees were kind of wobbly, but also to signify he was genuinely paying attention at this point.

She repaid him for that by punching his arm. “Yeah, that’s it, asshole. Seriously, I bare my soul to you, and you still bitch at me.”

“What can I say? I learned from the best.” After a moment of silence, the Doctor sighed. “So, what? You just wanna leave and forget any of this happened?”

“Yeah...No...Damnit, you’ve got me all confused.” Her tail was glowing again.

He put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry about going overboard earlier. It’s not...I just...God, no, there’s not a single good explanation for that, is there?”

“You’re desperate? Hopelessly in love with me, willing to drag yourself through the mud behind me and get beaten to shit just to be near me?” When he didn’t say anything, the Savra sighed. “Of course you are.”

“Calling it love is too generous; I’m just a masochist who thinks you’re cute.”

Asbestos shook her head. “It just had to be you, didn’t it?...Alright, how about this: when we’re both less intoxicated, and I’ve gotten my shit straight, I’ll get back to you on where I want this to go. Sound good?”

“It’s better than nothing.” He sighed. “Until then?”

“Until then?...Eh, why not? One for the road.” She ambushed him, giving him a kiss on the cheek before walking out the door.

The Doctor watched her leave, stomach full of butterflies and alcohol-induced nausea and head absolutely spinning. Was that really it? No, it didn’t feel right-

The Savra walked back into the room and closed the door behind her, shaking her head. “I’m staying the night. The jacket’s coming off, but nothing else is. We’re gonna lie in that bed together, in a warm and tender embrace, and that’s as far as we go tonight. Got it?”

“You read my mind.” His shoes flew into the wall across from him and ricocheted off. “Really couldn’t get me out of your head this time?”

“That’s not it...I’m just cold.” The words rang hollow even as she said them, but it didn’t matter; the way her tail curled around him instinctively once they were both lying down, or the way his heart beat lulled her to sleep as she set his head against his chest, or the way he took it all in stride, seemingly grateful just to have a chance at all - those were the realities of the situation, and those were all she needed to come to terms with it for the night.

Because, even if she didn’t want a friend, it was nice to have someone to do this kind of thing with...

#arknights #asbestos (arknights)#finally!#and while we're talking about newer Operators #Cutter and Sideroca are getting fics too #the vulpo is too cute i can't stop myself #and the forte goes so hard if i don't she'll ram me through my laptop #so yeah!#arknights fic

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welllpthisishappening · 5 years

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So I think that I sent you a babbling, semi-incoherent ask a couple of weeks ago that tumblr may have eaten. It was (sort of) a prompt about CS, snark and banter, and Santa!Con. But then I started to think - did you already write that fic? Did it sound to me like something right up your alley because you'd done it? If so, forgive me for not remembering! Also, I'm looking everywhere for a fic of yours I know I read about CS and a proposal attempt at Rockefeller Center, but I can't find it. Halp!!

Oh nooooo I never got that!! Well, this must be remedied at once, don’t you think? So, first off, I did write about a proposal at Rockefeller Center last year. It’s Heart to Heart and Hand in Hand and is basically my thoughts about public proposals and people taking pictures of a moment that isn’t theirs. As far as Santa Con goes, he’s some slightly proposal-type words with an incredibly drunk Killian Jones and vaguely stunned Emma Swan.

“Is everything spinning?”

Emma chuckles, wrapping her fingers around Killian’s arm in a rather pitiful attempt to keep him balanced. He’s sitting down. That does not appear to be making much of a difference.

“Your hat is going to fall off if you can’t sit up straight,” she says, and he makes a noise she’s never heard before. But, to be fair, she’s never actually seen him this drunk before and that includes David’s last birthday when the Knicks lost their first-round playoff series and the whole night ended with several oversized vessels for alcohol and the promise that it’s really a matter of dignity, Swan when it came to finishing every single drop.

“Sod the hat,” Killian grumbles. He slumps forward, the top flipping over, which only ends with the little pom pom thing bumping against his nose and Emma really has had far too much alcohol to deal with any of this.

She’s still not entirely sure why they agreed to this – but Ruby can be incredibly persuasive, demanding, when she wants to and Mary Margaret had done that doe-eyed thing and even Elsa said it sounded like fun. That had only gotten David to make some kind of noise of victory and Emma had sighed dramatically no less than half a dozen times before Killian agreed he’d wear a hat if they’d all shut up about it.

And so the Santa Con plan was born.

Ruby bought them matching hats.

“That’s a very old fashioned sounding sentence you know,” Emma points out, Killian making some kind of noise that she hopes is an agreement.

“I’m an old fashioned kind of gentleman.”

The laugh that bubbles out of her is decidedly alcohol-fueled and a little more like a giggle than Emma really wants, but the whole thing is also pretty goddamn endearing and those cookie shots at the last bar had been especially potent.

The room is definitely spinning.

There are so many people dressed like Santa Claus.

“Yeah, that’s definitely true,” Emma mumbles. It’s much harder than it probably should be to pull her arm up, resting her palm on the side of Killian’s cheek. He leans into it, eyes fluttering shut in a way that makes it almost too obvious how long his lashes are.

Emma bites her lip.

“But that’s a good thing,” she adds. His lips quirk up.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. How many cookie shots did you have?”

“Way too many,” Killian admits, eyes still closed. He moves his head slightly, a low groan in the back of his throat when the room very likely starts spinning again, but Emma forgets to be worried about that as soon as his lips brush over the back of her wrist. “I really like you, you know.”

She blinks. And waits for the rest of that sentence. It never comes.

And it’s not really surprising. She’s somewhere in the realm of one-hundred percent positive he likes her. Loves her, in fact. A lot. Like. Well, a lot. More than she thought possible and Emma hopes her heart can handle the rather sudden wave of alcohol-based emotions its being force to contend with.

It’s not surprising.

It’s normal and she’s not used to it, probably won’t ever be used to it, because it still makes it feel as if she’s glowing from the inside out when he says things like that, but it’s also kind of par for the course or tradition or something. Or, at least getting there.

She hopes so.

She’s been kind of thinking about it.

And Ruby claimed that Santa Con could count as some kind of quasi bachelorette party for both her and Belle. That made Emma’s heart thud too.

“Good to know,” Emma says, hating how breathless her voice has turned.

“I’m serious.”

“Oh, I know you are.”

Killian opens his eyes, far too blue to be anything except distracting even with all the alcohol metaphors. He kisses her skin again, nipping softly until Emma makes a noise that’s closer to a yelp than she’d like. It makes him smile. “Just,” he continues, and it’s almost impressive how he manages to elongate four letters into what sounds like several thousand, “God, you’re so pretty.”

Emma has no idea what noise she makes. It’s not a laugh. Or a scoff. It’s not even disbelief. It might actually be joy.

Her heart feels like it’s expanding.

“What?”

Killian nods earnestly, and Emma hopes this isn’t actually a dream. That’d be kind of disappointing. “That was the first thing I noticed, you know.”

“That I was pretty?”

“It’s not that super—superfi—“

“Superficial?”

“That,” he mutters, humming softly when Emma’s fingers move into his hair. The hat is a lost cause. She’s fairly sure someone has already stepped on it. And Mary Margaret may be singing carols on the other side of the bar. “Smart.”

“Smart and pretty, huh? God, I sound unstoppable.”

“Stopped me. Right in my tracks.”

Emma’s smile threatens to strain the muscles in her face. “That so?”

“Yuh huh. Belle said she wanted me to meet her girlfriend’s friend and you were there and your hair.”

“My hair?”

“It’s so…yellow.”

“Seriously how many cookie shots did you have?”

Killian scowls, a twist of lips that probably shouldn’t be attractive. Emma’s breath catches when he wraps his fingers around her wrist. “That’snotimportant,” he mumbles. They should probably find a seat with a back. This stool suddenly seems incredibly dangerous.

He shifts again, letting go of her arm and that’s only slightly disappointing. That, of course, is until his fingers card through the ends of Emma’s hair, letting the strands fall across his palm and over her shoulder and she’s not entirely sure what to do with the look on his face.

Like he’s a little stunned to still see her there.

“I like you so much,” he says again, half to himself. Emma’s heart does not care.

“So you’ve mentioned.”

“I want you to know.”

“Babe, trust me, I know,” Emma promises, ducking into his slightly blurry eye line. He smirks – or at least tries, one side of his mouth tugging up and free hand falling to her hip with an almost audible thump. “I really like you too. Maybe we should get you some water. And some food. Something greasy.”

“You want onion rings.”

“This is not about what I want.”

“Do you mean that?” Killian asks. Emma narrows her eyes.

“Mean what?”

“The—liking, I—“ He takes a deep breath, a hint of nerves that do not make sense with the man at all and Emma’s heart thuds for a totally different reason. Mary Margaret is definitely still singing.

“Were you doubting that? Because we could definitely make out some if you want, although we may get arrested for public indecency.”

He laughs, short and quick and still a hint nervous. Emma only just realizes she’s never actually moved her hand – her arm is starting to ache from holding it up for so long, but Killian definitely leans into the touch again and she really likes being able too feel him smile.

What a weirdo. It’s probably the alcohol.

It’s not.

“No,” Killian whispers. “But I want—“

“What?”

“Everything.”

Emma is very impressed her knees don’t give out. They wobble slightly. “I don’t—“

“It’s got to be perfect,” he says, barely giving her a chance to finish her half-finished thought. “That’s what you deserve and what we should—better than Mary Margaret and David. Way better than Ruby and Belle.”

Emma shakes her head slowly, trying to push past the admittedly rather large amount she’s had to drink to figure out what the hell he’s talking about. Her right knee gives out when she realizes.

“Oh my God,” she breathes, and Killian’s gaze gets hazier. He hooks his foot around her leg. That doesn’t make standing any easier.

“Perfect,” he repeats. “I’ve got—it’s going to be perfect.”

“What?”

“There’ll be kissing. We won’t be wearing Santa hats. Probably.”

“Probably?”

He hums, another far too serious nod and maybe the problem isn’t her heart at all. It might be her lungs. They appear to be shrinking. “Definitely,” Killian amends. “I want to do it at home.”

“We have one of those.”

She says it like it’s not the single most important sentence in the world, but Killian can’t seem to stop nodding and the footsteps coming towards them sound impossibly loud. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Together. Then we can make out.”

“Is that the goal?”

“With no clothes.”

“I think that may qualify as more than making out, babe,” Emma says, a forced lightness to her voice.

“Just the ring.”

She’s going to die. Right there – surrounded by several thousand drunk Santas and her equally drunk friends and her whole body shakes when David claps her on the shoulder.

“Hey,” David says brightly, Mary Margaret tucked against his side. They’re both still wearing their hats. Emma’s might be somewhere on Ninth Avenue. “You guys want to get some food?”

Emma doesn’t answer. She may nod. It feels like she nods, but she’s also trying to fight off death, so…

Killian, for his part, doesn’t appear to realize what he’s said or done, just tugs Emma closer to him and lets his lips drag across the side of her jaw and, really, dying in a Midtown bar a few weeks before Christmas would be so goddamn disappointing.

It would definitely make her a meme.

“You ok, Em?” Mary Margaret asks. Emma hopes she nods again. “Fries? Mozzarella sticks?”

“Onion rings,” Killian answers.

“Ah, good call. Where’s your hat?”

“Don’t know.”

He kisses behind Emma’s ear before Mary Margaret can say anything else.

And, honestly, if asked Emma would say she doesn’t consider the potential for a proposal the rest of the night. She’s far too busy telling Ruby the hats don’t matter and eating what must be some kind of record for onion ring consumption and navigating Midtown is a challenge she almost fails completely.

They opt not to take the Subway – far too many bridge and tunnelers in Port Authority – meandering up Tenth Ave instead on the assumption that it will be easier to hail a cab. It’s not. They’re too clearly drunk. And dressed like Santa.

“This is Santa prejudice,” Emma mumbles, nearly twenty blocks away from the last bar and Killian makes the world’s most ridiculous noise against the back of her neck.

“We’re not that far.”

“From home?” He makes the noise again. “You want to walk home?”

“I know you don’t want to pay for a cab anymore.”

That’s true. Emma doesn’t say that. She doesn’t have to – particularly when he tilts her head up to kiss her scrunched nose, fingers lacing through hers as they trek further uptown. Slowly, but surely.

It takes her several tries to open the door and a few more tries to get out of her boots and she’s not exactly expecting anything, but she kind of thought about the potential for a proposal and lying to herself is not an attractive quality. They don’t make out. They barely even make it to the bed, falling onto the mattress without moving the blankets or the pillows and Killian doesn’t take his belt off before he tugs Emma against his chest and they fall asleep with the lights on.

She may still be drunk when she wakes up the next morning – bits of sunlight poking through the curtains and a distinct lack of perspective fiancé next to her. Emma groans when she sits up, running a hand across her face. There’s noise coming from the kitchen.

She definitely uses the wall as support when she walks.

And Killian smiles when he turns towards her. He took his belt off at some point.

“How you feeling?”

Emma shrugs. “You were way more drunk than me. You take anything?”

“Probably more Ibuprofen than I’m supposed to, honestly.”

She laughs softly, leaning back against the counter and ignoring everything that appears to be fluttering in the pit of her stomach. “That help at all?”

“A little,” Killian says, handing her glass of water and several large pills. “Something about modern medicine, love.”

“You’re not a doctor.”

“But I was way more drunk than you and still alive, so—“

“—Well, who am I to argue with that?”

“Exactly.”

He doesn’t stop looking at her while she downs the pills, which is only a little unnerving, but that may be the fluttering and—“How much do you remember from yesterday?” Killian asks, the same hint of nerves in every single letter.

Emma nearly chokes on tap water.

Killian winces. “Was that all real, then? Not a dream?”

“Depends on what kind of dreams you’re having, I guess.”

“Ones that include all of that going much better than they actually did.”

He hisses in a breath of air, only to huff it out just as quickly, the tips of his ears going red when he takes a step back. And Emma doesn’t really think before she follows him, just moves into his space and rests her hand on his cheek again and—“I was so jealous of Ruby and Belle claiming Santa Con as some kind of bachelorette party, I could hardly see straight.”

Killian’s eyes widen.

“I really like you too,” Emma adds. “Like. An absurd amount, honestly. And, I um—“ She takes a deep breath. Her body doesn’t entirely appreciate it. “It’s always going to be you and I, well, it’d be yes. No matter when it happens.”

She barely gets the words out before he’s kissing her. It’s nice. It’s a hell of a lot better than nice, but they’re both very clearly hungover and Emma is still holding water and none of this went according to the very real plan Killian had.

He had a plan.

With her.

Emma can feel his smile against her mouth.

“I love you so much,” he whispers.

“I think that’s kind of a prerequisite of this, honestly.”

“Emma.”

“I love you too,” she says, and it feels like a guarantee and a promise and they barely get off the couch all day.

And he does, eventually, ask – telling Ruby we’re not going out on New Year’s, tugging a box out of his pocket at 9:47 p.m. because that’s the same time Emma showed up at the bar that very first time and it makes her heart thud and expand and a slew of other verbs it probably shouldn’t, but she kisses him before she answers.

“Swan,” Killian mutters, already doing his best to get her shirt off. The ring looks particularly good on her left hand.

“Yes.”

#cs ff #captain swan ff #captain swan fic #cs fic #WHAT IS THIS #WHO KNOWS #can't stop won't stop writing christmas fic #that's what it is really #idristardis #laura rambles

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mbtizone · 7 years

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Beca Mitchell (Pitch Perfect): ISFP

Dominant Introverted Feeling [Fi]: Beca places a high value on individualism. She is who she is and she doesn’t censor herself for anyone. Beca is opinionated, true to herself, and says exactly what she’s thinking. She doesn’t tip-toe around other people’s feelings or sugarcoat the truth. She flatly states that acapella is lame when the Barden Bellas try to get her to join their group and has no interest in joining them. She initially has trouble fitting in and deferring to Aubrey. She’s “alternative” and, prior to college, she never really had a group of girl friends. Beca doesn’t really talk about her feelings. When she begins to feel bad about how she treated Jesse, she expresses this by watching all of the movies he recommended (which, at the time, she looked down on), and cries to herself as she watches the end of The Breakfast Club. She even incorporates this into the group’s set for their competition. Beca wants to deal with her feelings on her own and typically resists confiding in other people.

Auxiliary Extroverted Sensing [Se]: One of the reasons that Beca clashes with Aubrey is because Aubrey wants to do things by the book and the way they’ve always been done. Beca, on the other hand, advocates for spontaneity and wants to open the group up to trying new things. Beca is eager to just dive in and start doing. She is a talented singer and has an ear for musical arrangements. Jesse is flabbergasted to learn that Beca doesn’t enjoy movies, because the endings are always too predictable. Beca is good at picking up on what’s going on in her environment. She pays attention to how the audience reacts to her performance, and takes action based on her observations. In the middle of their performance, Beca changes the arrangement because she’s reacting to how the people in the crowd are responding to them.

Tertiary Introverted Intuition [Ni]: Producing music is all Beca wants to do, and everything she does (even joining the Bellas) is to get herself to where she wants to be in life. Her father promises that she can drop out at the end of the year and he’ll help her move to Los Angeles if she makes an effort to get involved on campus, so she agrees. Beca is focused on making her dreams come true and wants to pay her dues and work her way up until she reaches her ultimate goal. Beca is creative and instinctively knows what an audience will respond to.

Inferior Extroverted Thinking [Te]: Beca goes after what she wants. Although she doesn’t show a desire to lead, she has no problem stepping in and taking initiative when necessary. Beca doesn't particularly want to be in college. For her, it’s a means to an end. Beca puts a lot of pressure on herself trying to balance her work at the recording studio with her duties as a Bella, and ends up taking out her frustrations on her teammates.

Enneagram: 4w3 6w7 8w9 Sp/Sx

Quotes:

Dr. Mitchell: So, when did you get here? How did you get here? Beca: Took a cab. Didn’t wanna inconvenience you and Sheila. How is the step-monster? Dr. Mitchell: She is fine, thank you for asking. She’s actually in Vegas at a conference- Beca: Oh, no, dad. I don’t actually care. I just wanted to say step-monster.

Beca: I don’t wanna study on the grass, dad. I need to move to LA and get a job at a record label and start paying my dues.

Beca: I wanna produce music. I wanna make music, dad.

Chloe: So, are you interested? Beca: Sorry, it’s just… it’s pretty lame. Aubrey: A-ca-scuse me? Synchronized lady dancing to a Mariah Carey chart-topper is not lame! Chloe: We sing all over the world, and we compete in national championships! Beca: On purpose? Aubrey: We played the Cobb Energy Performing Arts Center, you bitch! Chloe: What Aubrey means to say is that we are a a close-knit talented group of of ladies whose dream is to return to the national finals at Lincoln Center this year. Help us turn our dreams into a reality? Beca: Sorry, I don’t even sing, but it was really nice to meet you guys.

Beca: Thanks for bailing me out. Jesse: Well I didn’t. Beca: You called my dad? Jesse: I know, I know, but they we putting you in handcuffs, Bec. It looked pretty serious. Beca: That doesn’t mean you call my dad. Jesse: Who else was I gonna call? Okay, why are you yelling at me? I’m the only one here. Beca: I didn’t ask you to be. Jesse: I was just trying to help you. Beca: I don’t need your help, you’re not my boyfriend. Jesse: Got it.

Dr. Mitchell: Come on, Bec, that’s so unfair. Look your mom and I, we didn’t work. But I tried so hard to make things right between us. But you, just shut me out. Beca: Yeah, well, I shut everybody out. Don’t take it personally. It’s just easier.

Chloe: No, but the National A Cappella Association is in there talking to the dean about us, and who knows what’s gonna happen? Beca: We won three championships. Whatever happens in there, we’re gonna be fine. Maybe it’s time to think about other stuff. Chloe: What other stuff? Beca: You know, school, jobs, life. Chloe: This group is my life. I’ve intentionally failed Russian Lit three times so I could be a Bella. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to us. Ever.

Jesse: Any first-day jitters? Beca: No, no. You know, I’m just gonna be moody and distant. Artists love that.

Aubrey: Okay, that was two steps away from being almost fine. Beca: Sorry, what are we doing? Chloe: We’re rediscovering our sound. Beca: Are we? Cause it feels like we’re just singing songs that would never go in our set. Chloe: Beca, come on. Beca: No, none of us know how to beat Das Sound Machine, but I know it’s not gonna be by doing this. Aubrey: This is just an exercise in finding harmony, Beca. Sometimes you have to break things down before you can build them back up again. Beca: I’ve got more important things to do! Chloe: What could be more important than this?

Beca: Okay. I’ve been interning at a recording studio and a legit music producer wants to hear my work. God forbid I have something going on outside this group. Chloe: Okay. So why would you keep something like that from us? Beca: ‘Cause you’re obsessed! You all are. We’re graduating, and the only person thinking about life after the Bellas is me. Chloe: What is so wrong with being focused on the Bellas? This has been my family for seven years. Beca: Yeah, ’cause you’re too scared to leave! Sack up, dude! Chloe: Okay, so you’ve been lying to us for the entire year and now you’re just gonna flake out? Now you’re gonna flake out when the Worlds is, like, right after graduation? Beca: My God! Enough about the Worlds! I… I’m out of here. Chloe: Okay, you’re just gonna leave now? Beca: We all have to, eventually, Chloe! It might as well be now! If you all knew what was good for you, you’d follow me.

Beca: It’s just everything’s changing so fast and I’m putting all this pressure on myself, you know? I don’t wanna fail. Chloe: But if you just would have said something… Beca: Yeah, I know. But I’m weird about that stuff. I thought I could figure it out on my own, and I can’t. Maybe I don’t have anything original to say. I wish I could do what you do.

Beca: You know, when I look back on this, I won’t remember performing and competing. I’m gonna remember you weirdos. It makes me really sad to think it won’t ever be like this again. I’m gonna miss you guys.

Aubrey: Before everybody goes to bed tonight, I need you to make a list of everything you did wrong. Fat Amy: I’m gonna melt that cabbage patch kid. Beca: Hey guys, what we just did was great, right? Aubrey: Calm your pits Beca, we still lost. Beca: Yeah but it was spontaneous. It was awesome. We were actually listening to… Aubrey: Okay everybody, hands in. “Ahh” on my count. On three of after three?

Aubrey: Beca, I’m glad you’re here. I’m calling an emergency Bella meeting. First up… Our score sheet revealed that the Sockappellas almost beat us. And Fat Amy, you need to do it exactly how we rehearsed it, okay? No surprises. Beca: We should be taking risks. It’s not enough to be good, we need to put ourselves out there, be different. Cynthia Rose: Beca’s right. The Trebles never sing the same song twice. Beca: The audience love the Trebles, they tolerate us. We could change the face of a cappella if we…Oh my god, that sounded so queerballs. What’s happening to me? Um… let me show you this arrangement I’ve been working on.

Aubrey: What the hell Beca? Were you trying to screw us up? Beca: Are you serious? Aubrey: Newsflash. This isn’t the Beca Show. Beca: Okay, I’m sorry that I messed you up, but in case you hadn’t noticed, everybody pretty much dozed off during our set. Aubrey: It’s not your job to decide what we do and when we do it. Why don’t you ask the rest of the group how they felt about your little improvisation? Beca: Amy? Fat Amy: It was cool. But it did take us a little bit by surprise. Aubrey: Yeah, a lot like surprise. Fat Amy: Mmmm a little. Aubrey: I told you she wasn’t a Bella. Chloe: Aubrey, don’t. Beca: No, that’s okay. You don’t have to pretend you’re allowed to have a say in the group, right? Aubrey: Your attitude sucks. You’re a grade-A pain in my ass, and I know you’re hooking up with Jesse. Jesse: Woah, woah, Aubrey, calm down. We’re not hooking up, I swear. Beca: Jesus Christ! That’s perfect. Of course you’re here right now. I don’t need your help, okay? Can you back off? If this is what I get for trying…

Beca Mitchell (Pitch Perfect): ISFP was originally published on MBTI Zone

#4w3 6w7 8w9 #Beca Mitchell #Pitch Perfect #Sp/Sx #ISFP #Type 4 #enneagram 4 #mbti #mbti types #mbti personality types #fictionalcharactermbti #fictionmbti #468 tritype #enneagram #enneatypes #enneagram type #movie mbti

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anythingstephenking · 7 years

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Drive My Car

After months without turning a single page, I am crusin’! Man I am really on a roll! If you haven’t guessed yet, I am making car puns, as we dive (drive?) into Christine, the killer car story King promised his publishers would come after Different Seasons.

(Side note: while reading I make notes on my phone of pages to reference back to, cause only a real monster dog-ears pages. My notes on Christine read “crusin’…. on a roll… think of other car puns.” I didn’t.)

Although Wikipedia claims this book was published in ’82, it was actually released in ’83. Really letting me down Wikipedia. But happily I move into the next year of King books, and one step closer to catching them all like they were a buncha Pokemon.

This cover art is the tits. Also, the author’s photo on the back! Lastly, the inner cover with SK initialed in red and gold, like Gryffindor for serial killers.

This book has no preface or afterword, which is where I usually learn all my fun facts, so I did a bit more digging (nay, googling) for the backstory on this guy.

Well I couldn’t turn out much of interest. Sorry to disappoint. The story must have just appeared in King’s brain one day. I did love that the book was dedicated to George Romero. I have enjoyed learning all about King’s friendships, and imagine they all get together once a month in some kind of bizarro-minds-club, play cribbage and gripe about how everyone thinks they’re weirdos.

Posted without comment.

Each of the 51 chapters starts with a song lyric about cars. If you’ve ever listened to Car Talk, you know the list of songs about cars is long. I recognized the Bruce Springsteen ones. It was a throwaway device IMO, and just made me feel bad for the intern that had to work to get the rights to use 51 different song lyrics. King actually calls this out in a brief Author’s Note on the copyright page of my “Book Club” edition copy, thanking specific folks for helping him get the rights. OK, I guess I forgive you Stephen. Kisses.

On the surface, Christine is a story that is part killer car, part demon possession and part star-crossed lovers. I know, right?

Christine tells the story of Arnie Cunningham and his car Christine. Annie is your run-of-the-mill nerd. He’s got bad skin and has never done anything his parents wouldn’t approve of. His best bud Dennis is decidedly a cooler cat - he plays football so that means he’s automatically elevated to a higher class.

One day Arnie sees Christine, sitting broken on the lawn of an equally broken house and decides he has to have her. Men (eyeroll). He buys her from the owner, Roland LeBay and off he goes to a local garage to fix her up.

Dennis is almost immediately unnerved by Christine. Rightfully so, since the car goes on to kill a bunch of people.

Then along comes Leigh Cabot, the new girl in school. All the guys have the hots for her, but she’s only got eyes for Arnie. For once, the pretty girl picks the nerd, and it doesn’t really go all that well for her. Pick the quarterback the next time honey.

So Arnie and Leigh are an item, and Leigh also hates Christine. No one can quite put their fingers on it, but a rotten smell runs through her interior and the radio seems stuck on the 50’s rock station. Dennis and Leigh are plagued by nightmares of Christine coming to life.

And suddenly the engine began to rev and fall off, rev and fall off; its a hungry sound, frightening, and each time the engine revs Christine seems to lunge forward a bit, like a mean dog on a weak leash… and I want to move… but my feet seem nailed to the cracked pavement of the driveway.

King takes his time to build the story up, as he so often does. Christine doesn’t claim her first victim until halfway through. Until then you’re stuck with this looming sense of dread, knowing terrible things are coming. Every time Christine’s headlights turned on by themselves I muttered “oh... no “ to myself.

It’s not enough that Christine comes to life and runs people over (even manages this feat on a guy who is inside his house), but Arnie begins to take on characteristics of the previous owner, Roland LeBay. Since Roland was a real grade-a asshole, this doesn’t sit well with his friend, girlfriend or family. He becomes more and more like LeBay, until there’s no nerd left. Watching Arnie fall apart is heartbreaking.

But past the surface, Christine is a story of the pains of growing up, which isn’t really a new theme for King, who came of age himself in the 50s. And so often with King’s stories of teenage agony, and even when the story takes place in 1978, the 50s are lurking.

Before Arnie’s demise, he makes off-handed comments about how his parents know that having kids remind them that they’re going to die. Pretty grim stuff.

And Dennis has this revelation while out in Christine for the first time:

I was surprised by a choking panic that climbed up in my throat like dry fire. It was the first time a feeling like that came over me that year - but not the last. Yet it’s hard for me to explain, or even define. It had something to do with realizing that it was August 11, 1978, that I was going to be a senior in high school next month, and that when school started again it meant the end of a long, quiet phase of my life. I was getting ready to be a grown-up, and I saw that somehow - saw it for sure, for the first time in that lovely but somehow ancient spill of golden light flooding the alleyway between a bowling alley and a roast beef joint. And I think I understood then that what really scares people about growing up is that you stop trying on the life-mask and start trying on another one. If being a kid is about learning how to live, then being a grown-up is about learning how to die.

And these kids learn their lesson.

In some ways, Christine felt like a stronger coming of age tale than The Body. I was really rooting for these kids.

7/10

First line: This is the story of a lover’s triangle, I suppose you’d say - Arnie Cunningham, Leigh Cabot, and, of course, Christine.

Last line: His unending fury.

Added Bonus: King said in an interview about Christine getting killed and perhaps coming back to life (35 year old spoiler, sorry!): "All I can think of would be if the parts are recycled, you'd end up with this sort of homicidal Cuisinart, or something like that!”

Hardy Har Har! I might not be scared of cars but I am now scared of my food processor.

Adaptations:

Christine The Movie was the quickest turn-around from page to screen of any King movie, which began filming just as the book was released. The producer was a friend of King’s, and signed on before the book was published. He had his pick between Christine and Cujo, and chose Christine because Cujo seemed “too silly.” For real bro? I mean, they’re both great stories but I would tend to think of a rabid dog as a more serious threat than a sentient car that love Buddy Holly songs and blood.

1983 was a busy year for King movies. I’ve lost track since I am reading the books chronologically but not watching the movies that way. I’ve already watched some spectacularly bad King movies, but at this point in 1983, the movie-going public had only seen Carrie, Salem’s Lot and The Shining. Given the popularity of 2/3 of these movies, I bet everyone in Hollywood wanted their hands on the rights to a King story.

In 1983 Cujo, The Dead Zone and Christine all hit the big screens in August, October and December, respectively. I don’t know for sure but if I had to guess, that was too much King.

So, if you expect a whole lot of a John Carpenter movie about a killer car, well then, that’s your own fault. This movie was a lot of fun. As with so many King movies, his storytelling and character building just doesn’t translate to the big screen. The screenwriters seemed to not even care to try, boiling the main characters down to stereotypes. Arnie rocks giant glasses with tape across the arch; Dennis wears his letterman jacket; Leigh’s got great legs. Christine rolls around killing people that cross Arnie. There’s little mention of LeBay or his backstory in creating (or at least encouraging) Christine.

Instead, there’s the film’s opening sequence to explain Christine’s origin, which I just adored. Christine’s rolling along the production line in Detroit, the sole red car in a sea of white. A line worker attempts to open her hood, and it promptly clasps down on his hand. All while George Thorogood’s Bad To The Bone plays. Just on the nose, great start.

Unlike the novel with its clear themes of friendship, first love and looming adulthood, this movie is about one thing and one thing only - a killer car. Which is really ok. John Carpenter does his best and there’s some suspenseful moments with Halloween-esque sound effects. Whenever someone is pissing Christine off she locks her doors and Little Richard starts singing from her stereo "Keep a knockin' but you can't come in.” Christine catches on fire and still manages to run someone down, setting him on fire in the process. I’m not much a fan of big action sequences, but knowing they used almost 30 cars to make this and everything was filmed sans CGI made me appreciate it more.

Before I go, quick notes on the cast. Kevin Bacon was set to play Dennis, but chose to do Footloose instead. Good call, past Kevin Bacon. So they cast this guy, who is basically a poor man Kevin Bacon.

Leigh is played by Alexandra Paul, who would go on to rock a rad red swimsuit on Baywatch. Kelly Preston has a small role, and would go on to play the role of a lifetime as John Travolta’s wife. Rounding out the supporting cast was Robert Proskey (who I remember as Mr. Lundy in Mrs. Doubtfire), and Harry Dean Stanton who has basically been in everything.

Next up is Pet Semetery, which is (Chris Trager voice) literally my favorite King. My goal is to get through It before the new movie comes out in September, which means I have six books to get through in 3 months. So (spooky voice) I’ll be right back!

#christine #stephen king #book review #movie review

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